Listen
by Iffy Jr
Summary: Derek/Stiles HS AU. "Derek was so drunk at Lydia's party that he didn't even know who he ended up in bed with. Cora did, though, and now she's dead set on getting her brother into an official relationship with whoever it was. In other news, Stiles knows nothing about cars and has zero fashion sense. It's distracting, but at least Derek has someone to really listen." COMPLETE.


Author's notes: So, for my senior project I'm writing a book. It's an original story, but it's also something that I wrote most of back when I was in 8th grade, so I've been spending almost all of my computer time completely rewriting it (keeping the plot and stuff, but also making it less…embarrassing). Because it's already written and it's just a big huge edit, though, I'm not able to write parts of it when I'm sitting in class or something. So _this_ is what I've been writing in the meantime! I literally finished all of the others stories I was on (in this particular fandom, anyway), so I had to sit for a few minutes and think of something. This spewed out, and I hope you all like it :)

It's just one big long Sterek fic in Derek's third person POV, and it's about a 20 page/11,000 word high school AU (being that Derek is a high school student along with the others). It's not really one of my favorites, but I liked it enough to post it :P Aaaand I guess that's it. Enjoy! ^-^

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**Disclaimer**: None of the characters in this story are mine. (Shame, too, because this is one damn attractive cast.)

**S****ummary**: Derek/Stiles high school AU. "Derek was so drunk at Lydia's party that he didn't even know who he ended up in bed with. Cora did, though, and now she's dead set on getting her brother into an official relationship with whoever it was. In other news, Stiles knows nothing about cars and has zero fashion sense. It's distracting, but at least Derek has someone to listen." COMPLETE.

**Pairings**: (Main) Derek/Stiles; (Other) Chris/Victoria, Scott/Allison, Jackson/Lydia, Danny/Unnamed OC; Erica/Boyd/Isaac  
**Rating**: Mature  
**Additional tags/warnings**: m/m, m/f, and m/m/f pairings; strong language; AU – High School, AU – Human; good!Peter; top!Derek/bottom!Stiles; drunk sex; slow emotional build; romance, hurt/comfort

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**Listen**

Derek should not be popular. He's good at baseball and okay enough at basketball (though he's doing neither of them this year so he can focus more on school and work), and maybe he's attractive, but that's not what matters to him. Never has, never will. Derek doesn't have the personality to be popular, but he tends to live a little bit of it because it's convenient. He's just that senior kid that's good enough at sports that people smile at him and talk to him during practice and class and invite him to parties. The problem with that is that Derek is more of a listener of conversations than one who's in on them, so his talks with people don't last long. A few words here and there, a little smile at a cheesy joke, and a lot of glaring when he was up to bat last year.

As the star baseball player of last year it's _okay_ that he's popular, but he really doesn't belong in that group. The friends that are always partying and getting into trouble with the cops, or spending all of their money or cigarettes and/or weed. Sure, a joint here and there, but not excessively. He's got grades to keep up, because if he doesn't then college isn't going to be easy. He's trying for a music scholarship as of current, just applying for a whole bunch of them at once. His Uncle Peter (who D and his two sisters, La and Cr, moved in with after their parents were killed in a car accident that resulted in it blowing up with them trapped inside) keeps trying to get him to apply for some music scholarships because D can play the piano, but it's not really his thing.

"Derek, hurry up!" his younger sister, Cora (a freshman, so she's unbearable half of the time), yells from where she's waiting in the car. "We're going to be late again!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Derek mutters, locking the front door of their house in the middle of the woods.

Peter left a couple hours ago, at five-thirty, to get to his job at the morgue (he has a lot of his own hours, but he's a morning person, so he goes in early). The job pays well in Beacon Hills for two reasons: one, it's full of dead people, and nobody likes cadavers. Two, the town is small, so you'll know most of the faces that show up. So Peter works there because he doesn't care about any of those things.

Laura is three years older than Derek, but even after graduating she still lives with them, working as a caretaker for the grounds of the cemetery. She wanted to be in landscaping, sure, but working around old buried bodies wasn't exactly what she meant—but, it pays well too, so she doesn't complain. Cora, even as a freshman, works as a veterinarian under Doctor Alan Deaton and alongside Scott McCall, just as a part time thing after school. And Derek himself works part time after school at the local car repair shop (Argent's Auto Garage), checking oil and changing tires and sometimes picking up cars in the tow truck and all the whatnots.

All-in-all the four Hale's are pretty well off since all four of them have jobs, but usually they end up living very modest for the fact that they know exactly what it's like to have something great that's suddenly ripped completely away from you. They do have their splurges, though… Peter's is food (he likes to cook, which is hilarious since he comes home smelling like hospital sterilizers every day), Laura's is plants (as a broad term, since the house is covered in things from flowers to cacti to little Bonsai trees to foliage ivy creeping up the side of the house), Cora's is music (not singing or playing, but listening; she listens to every genre ever, from country to rap to metal to jazz and everything in between), and Derek's is, appropriately, cars (his own is a 2011 black Camaro with an engine he rigged up himself, metallic red tire rims, and seat covers with a theme of stars and moons).

So, yeah, Derek and his personality should not be popular. But his actions do; he goes to the parties and drinks a lot, if it's free. But it's not important to him, because if it was then he would have to form attachments that he just doesn't want or need. Three and his car are plenty enough for him.

**XxX**

"Hale!"

Derek looks up from the car he's currently changing the oil out in to Kate Argent, one of his three bosses. The others are her brother, Chris, and his wife, Victoria. Her father, Gerard, visits sometimes too, and her niece, Allison (which is funny, because Cora works with Scot, who's her boyfriend) works with him most of the time. The Argent's don't like Derek (except Allison, who tolerates him enough to call him by his first name and joke around together), but they keep him around because he's good at his job. Damn good, so they've even given him a raise before.

"Got a tow job for yuh," Kate says, holding up a clipboard. "Some kids' faded blue Jeep won't start after lacrosse practice at the high school."

Derek nods before finishing the oil change in the tank of a Volvo, and then quick grabs the clipboard off the desk Kate set it on. There's no name on it, but it won't be important until later. Derek might know who the kid is anyway.

"Oh, Hale," Victoria calls before he gets too far. "See if you can just fix it right there, would you? The garage is pretty full for the next couple of days."

Derek gives a simple nod in acknowledgement, knowing that she'd rather that than his actual voice. He does that to all of the Argent's (except for Allison) since they don't really like him. He's been here since he was a sophomore, so he should know.

Derek pulls up beside the lacrosse field where the Jeep is parked, glad to see that this kid is the only one still sitting around. Derek does know him as Stiles Stilinski, who's one of three lacrosse stars on the team. The other two are Scott and Jackson Whittemore, and all three of them are juniors. Stiles is socially awkward sometimes, but he practiced so much over the summer that he got amazing at the sport. Scott is his best friend, and he's the innocent kid that practiced with him and got even better at the whole thing. Jackson has always been good, but he's an asshole; he's dating some gorgeous junior girl just as insufferable.

"Hey, Scott, I'll call you back," he says into his cell phone. "That guy's here." Pause. "Who? Uh, Derek Hale, the senior." Pause. "Yeah, duh. Bye." He hangs up as Derek gets to him, grinning. "Derek, yo. You're coming to that party on Friday night, right? After the football game?"

Derek knows of no such party. "Maybe," he says.

"Man, you totally have to come! You _know_ how crazy Lydia's parties can get. Her mom is the best."

Both of those things really are true. The parties that Lydia Martin (also known as Jackson's girlfriend) throws are the only ones that Derek gets _really_ drunk at, and sometimes Peter and Laura go over to give Lydia's mother, Wendy, someone to socialize with while she makes sure that nobody dies.

"Still maybe." Definitely yes. Lydia's parties are the only ones that his entire four family members are specifically invited to. Derek likes his family. They can be annoying sometimes, but they're family, and he appreciates it a lot more than most teenagers do for obvious reasons. "What seems to be the problem? Just won't start?"

Stiles shrugs. "Just won't start," he repeats. "It sputters a lot, and it started for a couple of seconds at one point, but then it went right back out."

Derek hums in acknowledgement, but then quick says something about letting him check under the hood. Sometimes he forgets that the only people who don't like his voice are the Argent's.

He checks a few other places on the car as well, and it doesn't' take long to find out exactly what's wrong. He looks up at Stiles, sitting on the bleachers. "I figured out your problem, Stiles."

The junior perks up from his phone before bounding over. Derek's never noticed how long his legs are because he's never been to any of the lacrosse games, but it only takes him a few steps to get to them. "How much?" he asks right away.

"Enough to get you to the gas station."

Stiles wrinkles his nose up. "Huh?"

"You're out of gas."

He blinks up at Derek for a few seconds before face-palming. "Oh my _god_, I am such a dumbass."

"It's fine," Derek says, closing the Jeep back up. "I've done it a couple of times as well." Derek refrains from mentioning that those times were with lawn mowers and back when he was still a freshman.

"Whatever, it's still embarrassing."

Derek shrugs. "I've been called in for worse. I have a can in the truck, so I'll fill you up enough to get to the station on your own."

"Alright, awesome. You guys'll just send a bill to my place, right?"

Derek nods as he gets the can from the tow truck. "It won't be much," he says while Stiles pops the gas tank door. "The gas and some time, but hardly."

"Awesome. I didn't know you worked for the Argent's, though."

"I didn't know you knew them in the first place."

"My best friend is dating their daughter."

Derek raises an eyebrow as he dumps some gas in. "Scott and Allison?"

He nods. "Tell Allison I said hi when you get back, yeah?"

Derek nods, moving back to the tow truck.

"And you better come to that party!" he calls. "You have two days to disappoint me!"

Derek just waves at him, not even turning around. He likes Stiles, he guesses. He's a little too vibrant for Derek's taste, but he's nice—when he's not being sarcastic, anyway. He always karaoke's to High School Musical songs at parties that have a karaoke option. He's the type of drunk that people like even though he usually just talks a lot of gibberish and never has any idea what anybody is saying. Derek himself talks even less and usually just ends up making out with someone… Or, depending on how drunk he gets at Lydia's parties, he wakes up beside some random person in a bed and has to sneak out before he has to tell them he doesn't remember their name.

To each their own, he supposes.

**XxX**

When the football game is over, Derek finds himself being driven to Lydia's house for the party by Laura, Cora sitting in the back seats. Though he and his siblings do love each other, they usually end up doing completely different things. Derek stands with the baseball team and doesn't talk much, Laura is that awkward graduated girl who's crushed on by all the seniors and just talks with Wendy a lot, and Cora usually eats and swims and hangs out with the older guys so Derek sometimes just stands outside by himself so he can watch her and make sure that she doesn't drink (maybe next year, but for now she's still a freshman).

That's _before_ he gets drunk himself, though, and usually by then he doesn't even know who people are anymore. He's not really a beer person, but more of a vodka with Coke kind of guy (Laura and Peter drink martini's). Sometimes Sprite is okay, too, but he'd probably just drink it straight before then.

It doesn't take long for his vision to start dancing, so he decides to join them in the living room where the light is low and the music is loud. He's not really sure who he's dancing with, but her hair is long and blonde and—

He frowns as he feels her move away from him, but almost instantly the empty space is filled again. Short brown hair that's been spiked up front and a plain t-shirt, and Derek drops his hands to their waist and pushes against them. They're very good at dancing, resting their hands over Derek's and pushing back hard against him. When they turn around in Derek's grip, Derek blinks a lot to try and recognize who it is, but a mouth is at his ear before he can figure it out.

"There's an empty room upstairs," they whisper before a tongue darts out.

Derek finds himself nodding. He barely gets himself up the stairs and into the bedroom without tripping, and then he's dropping onto his back as the other person crawls over him.

"Derek Hale…" comes another whisper, and Derek realizes that whoever it is that's on top of him is a guy. No matter, as long as he's the dom. "You are _so_ drunk."

Derek breathes a laugh. "I am so drunk," he repeats. He was gifted with not slurring when he's drunk, but the downside is that it's even harder for him to walk _any_ sort of straight.

A tongue drags across his neck. "Can you tell who I am?"

Derek shakes his head and moves his hands to the boy's waist before slipping them lower to hold against his ass. "I don't know," he says. "You smell good. Cinnamon."

The boy laughs. "It's my conditioner. Do you _want_ to know who I am?"

Derek squeezes his hands, realizing that the only material there is a pair of boxers. He doesn't remember anyone getting undressed, but oh well. "Yes, but I won't remember it."

"Good," the boy says with a hum against Derek's neck. "It's Stiles."

Derek hums back, grinding up against him. "I know a Stiles. I picked him up…two days ago, I think."

This Stiles laughs as he leans away from Derek's neck, looking down at him in the darkness. Derek can just see his outline, so even if his vision wasn't blurry he wouldn't be able to make out a familiar face. "Yeah, I…I heard about that. He ran out of gas, right?"

Derek nods, pulling his head back down to bite against his bottom lip. "Yeah, he was totally beating himself up about it." He bites lightly down to suck in this time, pulling out a tiny little moan.

Stiles grinds down, his hands pushing up under Derek's shirt. "Can I kiss you?" he asks.

Derek nods as he lifts his arms up, letting his top drop somewhere onto the floor.

"Damn," Stiles says, his hands running over Derek's chest. "I should have done this _ages_ ago." He leans down and kisses him hard, pushing his tongue in to drag it over the top of Derek's mouth.

Derek moans a little, his hands dropping to his own hips to get his jeans off. "I want you," he chokes out around Stiles' mouth. "On your back." He kicks his pants off. "With your legs around my waist." He rolls them over, dropping one of his knees between Stiles' legs. "You taste good."

Stiles is breathing heavier than before, and he's got one hand on the back of Derek's neck, and then the other wraps around one of his wrists and pulls Derek's hand down between his legs. "Then take me," he says, his voice husky at the contact. "Take me until I break underneath you."

Derek kisses him hard as he palms the boy through his boxers, swallowing the moans as he creates them. He eventually remembers that he's going to need lube, though, so he pulls away so that they can breathe.

"I have lube and condoms," Stiles says, rolling slightly.

"I'm clean," Derek says, referring to the rubber.

Stiles snorts. "Really? Or are you just saying that because you're drunk?"

"Nuh-uh, I was tested two weeks ago and I haven't been to any parties since then."

"You promise?"

"Uh-huh. I wouldn't lie about that. I'm not a stupid drunk."

"Those are basically synonyms."

Derek shakes his head. "I'm a synonymous drunk."

Stiles chuckles, and he puts a little bottle into one of Derek's hands. "That made no sense. I'll put it on _for_ you, alright?"

Derek just nods, opening the bottle of lube.

Everything happens so fast after that. Derek presses one hand on Stiles' chest while he stretches him, kissing him hard and swallowing moans. True to the boy's word, he pushes up to put the condom on Derek's cock himself, and after that the sliding in is easy. Derek's not exactly a quiet lover, but he's more the moaning kind instead of talking. Stiles is the opposite, always telling Derek "harder" and "faster" and "fuck, yes" and "oh god, don't stop".

Eventually they both reach the top, Derek into the condom and Stiles over Derek's hand since he started pumping him himself.

"Fuck," Stiles whispers as Derek pulls out and drops onto his side. "Are your arms shaking?" He grips onto one of Derek's biceps. "Your arms are totally shaking. I can be on top if we ever do this again."

Derek hums, pressing his face into Stiles' neck. "Cinnamon," he murmurs.

Stiles breathes a laugh, pushing a hand through Derek's hair. "You're a lot softer when you're drunk off your ass, you know that? You don't usually listen to what people tell you to do, but tonight you just…came with."

Derek nods into his neck, not sure if he should try not to fall asleep so he can hear what Stiles has to say or to just ignore him and pass out. His body is mostly choosing for him, now…

"You're about to pass out, aren't you?" Stiles asks.

Derek nods again, wrapping his clean hand around one of his wrists. "Good," he says into Stiles' ear. "You taste good."

The last thing that happens before sleep steals him away is Stiles kissing the tip of his nose. Nobody has ever kissed Derek's nose before…

**XxX**

Derek only wakes up because Cora shakes him until he does. His headache isn't too bad, but he has no idea how he got into this bed.

"You are such a slut," Cora mutters, throwing his clothes at him. "Hurry up and get dressed before Lydia wakes up from the pool chairs and grumbles at us."

Derek nods, putting the clothes on under the blankets. "Is this her room?"

"Yes, if the pink wasn't any indication."

"What time is it?"

"Three in the morning. Laura has the car running."

Derek and Cora go out of the bedroom window to get outside, jumping onto the grass before quick getting into Laura's car and driving away.

"Who was the lucky one tonight?" his older sister asks.

Derek frowns. "You guys do realize that I've only drunkenly slept with three people in my entire _life_, right?"

"The fact that you were drunk in the first place is why we're making fun of you."

Derek rolls his eyes. "It's not my fault that the Lydia's parties always have A-grade alcohol."

"You don't even remember who it was, do you?" Cora huffs.

Derek sighs. "The last thing I remember is eating a bowl of carrot sticks by the pool."

Laura snorts. "Carrot sticks and vodka?"

"My liver was being fucked enough; I didn't need any nachos in my stomach."

"Well, even if _you_ don't know who it was that you banged," Cora says, "_I_ do."

Derek frowns. "Who?"

"I don't know his name, but it _was_ a he. Pale kid with brown hair and a few moles here and there."

Derek shrugs. "I have no idea who that is."

"Well _he_ was grinning from ear-to-ear when he walked out of the bedroom. I was looking for the bathroom. That's why I saw him come out."

"Why did he leave if he looked so pleased?"

"He probably waited for you to be drunk so you wouldn't remember him at all," Laura supplies.

Derek frowns. "That's a new one."

"Do you want me to point him out at school for you if I see him while I'm near you?" Cora asks.

Derek shrugs. "If you want. All I remember is that it was really great."

"Ew," Laura mutters. "I do not want to know that."

Derek chuckles, earning one of Cora's elbows in his side. He loves his sisters. They were a pain in the ass before the explosion, but now? Now they and Peter are all he has left.

**XxX**

Derek works on both Saturday and Sunday (they're not open on Sunday, but it's something to do). Because he worked on Sunday, though, he gets Monday off. He's currently sitting under a tree on school property to soak in the last few warm days, working on homework. His senior project action plan is due pretty soon, too, so he should probably pick something for that…

"Yo!"

Derek looks up with a squinty eyed frown since the sun is right in front of him, but he tries not to make it look too menacing when he sees that it's somebody he knows. Stiles is wearing a bright grin, one backpack strap over a shoulder, bright red pants, and a flannel with yellow and orange as its main color.

"Hi," he says. "New fashion statement?"

"Whatever, I'm fiery. Are you working on homework?"

Derek nods. "Trig stuff."

"Sounds boring."

"It is boring."

"Are you any good at it?"

Derek shrugs. "So far."

Stiles nods, hands in his pockets. He just sort of stands there for a few more seconds, and Derek doesn't really want distracting company, but… Well, worst case he doesn't finish his homework, he supposes.

"You can, uh…" He holds a hand out. "Sit, if you want."

Stiles grins brighter and does so, swinging his backpack around to drop it in front of him. "I have advanced algebra to work on," he mutters. "I was going to sit a few trees over, but I decided it'd be just as awkward since we know each other." He drops his math book onto the grass beside him. "Do you know what you're doing for your senior project?"

Derek shrugs, looking back down at his sheet of paper. He's about halfway through the problems he needs to do. "Probably something with cars, but I'm not sure yet."

"What could you do with cars? Just build one?"

"I don't know if I'd have enough time for an entire car, but part of one would work. An engine or something. Do you have any idea for it next year?"

"Well, my dad's a cop, so probably just something with him."

Derek nods, glancing up at him. He's playing his fingers just barely over the front of his hair, spiked up a bit. Derek frowns to himself, trying to think of why that look is so familiar to him… He shakes his head, going back to his work.

Derek knows that Stiles is known for never shutting up _ever_, so the fact that they work in silence for at least ten minutes is probably a new record. The junior breaks it, though, which is expected:

"I barely saw you at the party last night," he says, voice a little…shaky? "Where'd you disappear to after dancing?"

Derek wrinkles his nose up. "I don't remember dancing."

Stiles snorts. "You really _were_ that drunk."

Derek raises an eyebrow at him, but Stiles isn't looking up. "Yes, but I was coordinated enough to stand."

"Hardly."

When the younger boy glances up, he's grinning, but when he sees Derek's face it washes away a bit. "What?"

Derek shakes his head, looking back at his homework. "Nothing, your name just sounds really familiar right now. Not because I know you, but…" He flits a wrist. "I don't know, it's not important. Jeep doing okay now that you're keeping the tank full?"

Stiles snorts. "Full is a bit of an overstatement, but yeah, it's doing better. I need to put some more air in the tires, though."

Derek looks up when he sees the teen raise his hand, and he follows the pointed finger to where his Jeep is parked. "They don't look so bad," he says. "You could just get a little pump and let it run for a few minutes. No need to bring it in."

"Yeah, if I had one of those."

"I've got one in the back of my Camaro," he says, looking back down. "You can borrow it."

"Really? Awesome! How do they, uh, work?"

Derek snorts, putting his paper between the pages of his textbook before closing it. "We can just do it here," he says. "Come on, I'll show you."

He grabs up the portable tire pump from his trunk before getting to Stiles' Jeep, setting it down by the lowest tire. Stiles says he gets it after the second time, but when Derek lets him try it on his own for the third he mostly just lets a lot of air out. He gets it on the fourth tired, though, so at least he learned something.

"That wasn't too bad," Stiles says, setting the pump into Derek's trunk for him. "I sort of looked like an idiot, but that's what I do best, so…" He shrugs. "What can yuh do?"

Derek nods as they move back to the tree. "You don't know a thing about cars, do you?"

"Not a thing."

"I suppose you're going to start hanging around me for the free business, then?"

Stiles actually blushes a little as they sit back down. "It wasn't my intention, but it is convenient."

Derek gives a passive shrug as he opens his math back up. "I don't care. I have nothing better to do than cars anyway."

"You should definitely do something with an engine for your project. How long have you been working for the Argent's?"

"About three months before my sophomore year ended."

He nods, working on his own math. It doesn't really look like he's gotten anywhere at all, to be honest… "They like you, then."

Derek snorts. "They like my work, yeah."

The junior frowns. "They don't like you?"

"They don't like me," he repeats, fishing off another problem. "You think I don't talk much now, you should see me in there. Nodding is my specialty."

Stiles is silent for a moment, and Derek is surprised enough to look up at it. He's frowning, eyebrows knit together.

"You don't have to think too hard about it," Derek says, looking back down. "I get paid for what I love. Allison is nice to me, and the others just ignore me. I like it that way."

"You sure are weird," Stiles says, probably still frowning. "You're great at sports and you go to parties, but you're so…" Derek sees one of his hands wave around in his peripheral vision. "You're just not the type. It's like you don't even want to; like you just do it because you honestly like it instead of doing it to get on anyone's good side."

Derek looks back up at that, one eyebrow raised. "Is that really what most people do?"

"No, but a lot of them do. Jackson and Lydia, for example. Jackson's actually got impressive parental issues, and Lydia is afraid that people won't like her if they know how smart she really is." He frowns. "I probably shouldn't have told you that."

"It's fine, I don't really have anyone to tell."

"Aren't you pretty close to your sisters?"

"Yes, but Laura is older and doesn't have anyone to tell after that, and Cora is a blabbermouth so I wouldn't tell her anyway."

He smiles. "Good. Scott does it because he loves it, and I mostly just do it because I got sick of just rooting for him on the sidelines." He shrugs. "It's fun, not to mention all of the free party beer." He laughs. "My dad kinda hates me for that."

Derek nods. "I probably would too, if I were a cop with an underage son."

Stiles perks up. "You want kids?"

Derek squints his eyes in confusion, wondering how he jumped from… Well, it probably doesn't matter. "Probably not," he says. "I don't need to be attached to anything."

Stiles deflates at that. "Why not? I mean!" He face-palms. "I'm sorry, ignore me."

Derek snorts again. He doesn't usually get reactions like that. "It's fine," he says, looking back down. "At least you actually remembered. Most people ask what my problem is and then I have to explain it."

Stiles gives an unhappy sound. "I'm sorry, that must—no, you probably don't want to talk about it." He taps his pencil awkwardly. "What are you doing after tomorrow's lacrosse game?"

Derek's frowns at his math. "I didn't even know there was one."

"Yeah, it's Tuesday since football is on Friday. Jackson's throwing a party afterwards, though, which his why I'm asking."

Derek looks up at that. Why is Stiles so adamant about him hanging out with all of his friends all of the sudden? Either way, free drinks. He usually doesn't get too drunk at Jackson's parties, mostly because they're always on weeknights and the cops almost always show up by eleven.

"What time does the game end?" he asks.

"Um, it starts at five, so like…seven."

"I'll probably be working."

"You're _always_ working."

Derek doesn't really feel like reading too deeply into why he knows or cares about that, so he just shrugs and looks back down at his math. "I like what I do and I need the money."

"Aren't you only allowed to work for four hours since you're in school?"

"Yeah, but they won't care once I turn eighteen."

"When's that?"

"In about two months."

"Wait, really? What day? 'Cause I'm turning seventeen in about two months, on the eighteenth of November."

Derek looks up, both eyebrows raised. Stiles is definitely distracting him, but it's really not that bad. He's almost done, anyway. "You're kidding."

Stiles grins widely. "No way, really? We're on the same day! It's gonna be your golden birthday, even!"

Derek frowns, but it only takes him a second to realize what that is. "Yeah, it will."

"That's pretty crazy, though. Now I'll think of you on my birthday for the rest of my life." He flits a wrist and looks back down at his own math. "Maybe I'll forget about you when I'm forty."

Derek chuckles, glancing away. "Nice of you." When he looks back over, Stiles is giving him an incredibly wide-eyed look. He frowns a little at it, not sure where it's from.

"Sorry," Stiles says, looking down. "Sorry," he mumbles again.

Derek tilts his head, kicking his foot out to bump the junior's knee. "Did I say something?"

"No, you… Your laugh. I've never heard you laugh before."

Derek snorts, pulling his foot back. "Am I really that bad?"

Stiles gives a crooked smile. "You're _terrible_. This is the most emotion I've ever seen on you."

Derek nods, realizing that he only has two math problems left. "My family members talk a lot, so I guess I just listen most of the time." He shrugs. "It's more fun to listen anyway."

"We should hang out more, then, because I am the complete opposite and could give you _tons_ to listen to."

Derek hums, finishing off his last problem. "If you can get to me around my work and school schedule, then sure."

"I did today and I didn't even try to, so I'm sure it won't be that hard. Do you… Phone?"

"I have one, but I don't text. You could try, but I'd forget about it and end up never answering you."

Stiles laughs a little, pulling out his cell phone as Derek is putting his math away. "I only text to make plans, so that's fine. If I did I'd end up sending three times as many characters as I'm able to."

"You could probably just call me," Derek says, pulling out his own cell phone. Stiles' is a fancy looking touch screen, but Derek's is some old flip phone. He'd rather spend his money on his car. "If I don't answer I'm busy, and I usually remember to call back."

They exchange numbers after that, Stiles going under as "S. Stilinski". He sees himself go under as just his first name in the fancy phone, though, and he finds it appropriate since there are no other Derek's at school. Then again, he's never met another person named Stiles… He shrugs and changes it to his first name, too.

"Well, now that we're done with math!" Stiles says, closing his book.

Derek raises an eyebrow. "You barely did five problems."

His eyes widen the tiniest bit before he shrugs. "It's enough to get me through the class."

"Barely."

Stiles nods. "Barely," he echoes.

They part ways after that, to opposite directions of the parking lot. Derek huffs as Stiles pulls out before him, really trying to remember why his first name seems so familiar. Maybe he heard it being chanted during a game of beer pong or something.

Suddenly his phone blares out Cora's ringtone (the chorus of Boomkat's "The Wreckoning", since it's her favorite song), so he snatches it up as he drives away from the school. "What?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm just leaving the school. What's for dinner?"

"Laura just got back and she's making something with pasta. What took you so long?"

"I was doing homework in the sun."

"Why'd you stay at the school?"

"It has nice trees."

"_It_ has nice trees? We live in the middle of a forest, Derek."

"I mean that the trees are spread out so I can actually feel the sun when I go outside."

"I don't even care. I found out that kids lacrosse number today—I saw him earlier today, too, and let me just say that he has _zero_ sense of fashion, which is kind of funny since he's friends with Lydia. He's got a game tomorrow night, and _we_ are going to it so I can point him out to you."

Derek frowns, and instead of telling her that's he's already going he just asks why.

"I'm totally going to set you guys up."

Derek wrinkles his nose up. "_Why_?" he asks again.

"Because you need at least one real relationship before you graduate."

Derek rolls his eyes. "Seriously?"

"_Oh_ yeah."

**XxX**

After work on Tuesday, Derek and Cora end up sitting in the very middle of the bleaches beside Allison, Lydia, and a few other girls that Derek's never really cared to learn the names of. Derek plugs his ears a lot, because _damn_, Lydia sure knows how to scream when Jackson makes a goal.

"There he is," Cora eventually says, pointing. "Number twenty-four. He just passed it to Jackson."

Lydia looks over at them at that, an eyebrow raised. "Did you say number twenty-four?"

Cora nods.

"What about him?"

Cora grins at Derek, who rolls his eyes, before telling her: "Derek got super drunk at your last party and slept with him."

Lydia blinks at them for a moment before snorting. "There is no way that he did that. Stiles is straight, not to mention the crush he's had on me since third grade."

Derek chokes on his own spit. "Number twenty-four is _Stiles_?"

She frowns. "Duh? Didn't you see our sign?" She grabs the poster that Allison is holding and spins it around to show them. There's a thirty-seven for Jackson, an eleven for Scott, a six for Danny Mahealani, and a twenty-four for Stiles.

Cora flits a wrist. "I don't care _what_ you think Stiles is—including that _name_, by the way—because I saw him walk out of the bedroom that Derek was in with a _huge_ smile on his face. Also he smelt like the perfume that you're wearing, and _that_ means that he sprayed some over himself to cover up the sex. Just because I'm a freshman doesn't mean I don't know what's going on."

Now Allison is giving her a wide-eyed look. "Oh my god," she says. "Stiles is gay?"

"No way," Lydia says, shaking her head. "Bisexual at _most_. He lost his virginity to Heather a month before school started, remember?"

"I remember!" the girl on the other side of Allison yells, so Derek is pretty sure that she's Heather.

"Not important," Lydia says, holding up a hand. "Cora, are you _positive_ that it was Stiles you saw?"

"Because it's going to be really awkward if you ask him about it later and it wasn't," Allison adds.

Cora raises an eyebrow. "Is Stiles kinda pale with some moles and the front of his hair styled up?"

"Holy hell," Lydia whispers, dropping her head into a hand. "He actually did it."

Derek frowns, but he's mostly just thinking of all the interaction he's had with Stiles lately. Asking him about going to parties and games and about cars and work…

"Went through with what?" Cora asks.

Derek doesn't wait to find out. He stands up, mumbling something about having to go to the bathroom. Stiles has been hanging around him because he has a _crush_ on Derek. Stiles wants him to form another _attachment_. He can't do that. No more family, no deep friendships, and definitely no _relationships_. Maybe Cora was going to _try_ to get him with somebody, but obviously Derek wasn't going to go through with it. He's got to humor his sisters sometimes, but not with something like this.

Derek leans against one of the bathroom walls inside of the high school, dragging a hand down his face. He could sleep with Stiles again, maybe, but obviously the junior wants more than just a couple of one night stands. Derek doesn't want that. He gets enough social interaction with his family and the parties he goes to—he doesn't need to bring a friend over to his house.

He sighs when he hears the bathroom door open, and then he's not at all surprised to see that it's Lydia just walking into the men's restroom like she owns the place.

"Let me tell you something," she says in greeting, leaning against the wall beside him. "You lost both of your parents, right?"

Derek doesn't look down at her. "I did."

"Were you with them?"

"I'm still alive, aren't I?"

"Ooh, sarcasm. You're perfect. Stiles lost his mom, you know. He was sitting beside her when she died. Now all he's got left is his dad—no siblings or uncles to come and visit."

Derek looks down at her at that, throat tight. "He did?"

"He did indeed. And you know Stiles well enough to see that he's very good at hiding his pain for it. But let me tell you, not a single ray of his sunshine is for show. He's gotten _passed_ it because he's got people to help him through it. You've got people for that too, and yet you're…" She flits a wrist. "Kind of a dick about it."

Derek wants to bitch at her for that comment, but she continues on before he can:

"Personally the closest thing I've come to losing a parent is divorce, so obviously I don't know exactly how either of you feels, but what I do know is that there are currently two ways of dealing with death here and _you_ are doing it _wrong_."

Derek glares a little before looking away. "Maybe you shouldn't give advice about something you don't understand," he says as calmly as he can.

She gives a tiny little hum. "Maybe you should let somebody besides a family member passed the calluses of your heart and live a little."

He huffs angrily, but he's not going to comment. "What was Stiles planning on doing?"

He sees her smile out of the corner of his eye. "He knows that you like to get drunk at my parties, and he knows that you're perfectly alright with one night stands. So, to put his brilliant little plan in action, he decided to see if you were really as good as the other girls claim you are. Apparently you are—even drunk, which is impressive." She smirks a little. "He's always talked about you, you know. Subtly, though, so we wouldn't know. Something about seeing you pick somebody up in a tow truck, or doing the grocery shopping with Laura, or how much he wanted a shirt just like one you were wearing that day. It's not just the physical, but that is what it's built off of. He wants to get to know you more than anything else, and lately you've been letting him do that without even realizing it."

Derek narrows his eyes again. "What is there that he could possibly want to know about me?"

She smiles, pushing away from the wall. "Everything, and I think you should give him a chance at it. He knows what you've been through, at the very least. It's your choice, of course, but…" She glares at him. Not a normal glare, but a creepy wide-eyed smiling one that let's Derek know he's probably going to get his throat slit in the middle of the night. "Don't pick the wrong one." And with that, she's gone, clicking out of the bathroom.

Derek stands there for a moment longer. On the one hand, she's right. On the other, though, Derek is going to graduate before Stiles and/or end up breaking his heart on accident just because it's so hard for him to truly open up to people thanks to his monstrous commitment issues. Even with Peter and his sisters he sits there in silence because they like to do the talking, and now Stiles wants to fill the void even more? Maybe he could—

All of the sudden the big bathroom stall swings open, and out tumblr three high schoolers. One of them (with crazy curly hair and wide, excited eyes) is in a lacrosse uniform, and he giggles a little before moving straight out of the bathroom at a run. Derek barely catches the number fourteen on his back, but he misses the last name. The other two aren't in any uniforms at all; the blonde girl is in a miniskirt and leopard print heels, and the dark skinned boy is in a leather jacket and is about the same size as Derek is.

"I used to have a crush on Stiles," the blonde says, walking over to Derek in the same fashion that Lydia had. "The way he always moves his hands around is _adorable_, not to mention how fluently he speaks in sarcasm."

Derek raises an eyebrow at her, pushing away from the wall. "Have you three been in here the entire time?"

"Yup," the boy says, arms crossed forebodingly. "Tell a soul that this is what number fourteen skipped for and we'll hunt you down like a wolf hunts its prey."

Derek lowers his eyebrow, un-amused. "I don't even know who you _are_."

He looks like he's about to smile at that, but the blonde speaks before he can: "I'm Erica, this is Vern—er, Boyd, and Isaac just ran out so he could keep playing." She takes another step up to him, close enough that Derek can feel her breath from the way she's looking up at him. He doesn't move, though. Just stares back and crosses his arms. "I'd invite you to a four-way, but I think you'd be _way_ cuter with Stiles." She grins and takes two steps back, leaning against Boyd (Vern?). "Isaac lost both of his parents, too, so maybe _you_ guys should be in the three-way."

Derek mashes his lips into a line, moving towards the exit to the bathroom. "Thanks, but I'm good."

"Wait, wait," she says, practically launching forward to grab onto one of his wrists. "Was he good?"

Both of Derek's eyebrows rise. "What?"

"I know that Lydia said you were drunk, but do you remember if the sex was good or not?"

Derek doesn't care, he just wants her to let go. "Yes, it was great, now let go of me."

She grins, letting go. "Tell him that the creepy blonde with the car parts still thinks he's a great Batman."

Derek has no idea what she means, but he doesn't stay to find out. He just nods and gets out of there, moving down the hallways to get back to the game. He doesn't want a relationship (Lydia can come and slit his throat all she wants), he just needs to grab Cora so they can get out of here before the game is over and Derek is forced to talk to Stiles and make up an excuse as to why he's not coming to the party. Stiles has his number, sure, but he can easily ignore texts and phone calls.

No such luck. Halftime.

"You _are_ here!" Stiles exclaims, helmet in hand. "I thought you'd just end up at only the after party!"

Derek swallows tightly. "Cora brought me after I got off work."

"Yeah, I saw her. Is she coming to Jackson's, too?"

Derek is about to make up an excuse that neither of them can come at all, but of course his sister pops out of nowhere. "Definitely!" she chirps. "We'll _both_ be there!"

Derek mashes his lips into a tight line. "Yeah."

Stiles is smiling, but it falters slightly. "You okay?"

Derek nods. "Go get some water, you look exhausted."

The smile comes back as he nods before running off, momentarily stopping at number fourteen on the way. Derek frowns when he realizes that he's the one that ran out of the bathroom, and even deeper when Isaac Lahey grins back at him. Erica and Boyd are standing beside him, Boyd (right, he remembers now; it's Vernon, not Vern) looking menacing and Erica waving.

"Who are they?" Cora asks.

"Some creepy juniors," Derek answers.

"The curly haired kid is hot."

Derek shakes his head, corralling her back to the bleachers. "He's taken."

**XxX**

Derek does what he can to avoid Stiles at the party, but it isn't long before his hiding spot on the couch is found.

"Hey there," the junior says, dropping onto the couch beside him.

Derek gives him a little sup nod in greeting.

Stiles chuckles. "_You_ look exhausted."

Derek hums a little. "Work was long," he lies. In reality it was the shortest thing in the world because he didn't want it to end. Then, to make sure that Stiles doesn't question it more, he adds Erica's message: "The creepy blonde with the car parts says to tell you that she still thinks you're a great Batman."

Stiles snorts. "Oh my god, Erica is insane." He grins a little. "Want a cigarette? We'll have to go outside if you do, though."

Derek nods, because he would rather tell Stiles that he just can't be in a relationship outside than in here with a whole bunch of people standing around them to possibly hear it as well.

Stiles pulls two out of nowhere once they get outside, out back of Jackson's house (most everyone else is still inside, drinking something or another), but he fumbles a little for his lighter.

"Here," Derek says, pulling his own out since it's just in his jacket pocket. He doesn't very often need it, but he keeps it around for times like this.

Stiles grins at it. "Marilyn Monroe?"

Derek shrugs at the comment to the picture on the lighter. "She's not usually someone I'd plaster on my things, but there was a sale for these ones. They only had two different designs, though, so…" He shrugs, holding his cancer stick up to his lips before raising the lighter.

He tries really hard not to notice the way that Stiles is staring at his lips, but it gets even worse when he puts his own cigarette up between his own lips for Derek to light for him because Derek suddenly has a very clear image of what exactly those lips can do in the kissing department.

Stiles pulls in deep as Derek puts the lighter away, eyes fluttering shut. "I haven't done this since the first day of school," he says softly.

Derek nods, pulling in his own drag. He means to say something about his last time smoking tar, but what comes out is something else entirely: "What's your type?"

Stiles coughs a little, but it's not from the smoke. "Huh?"

"Your type," Derek repeats. "You know, the people you're attracted to."

Stiles shrugs the tiniest bit. "You know. People."

Derek nods, letting his cigarette just sit between his lips before crossing his arms. "Ah." He is an idiot.

Stiles sighs. "I like leather jackets and dark hair and stubble and really nice cars even though I don't know a thing about them."

Derek swallows tightly before reaching up to pull in another drag. "That's kind of specific," he chokes out.

Stiles nods, looking down at the concrete of Jackson's back patio. "What's, uh…what's yours?"

Derek should never have told him his car just needed gas. "I don't know," he says, puffing out. "I'm not really a relationship person."

Stiles pulls in a very deep drag. "Oh? Why not?"

Derek lowers his cigarette. "You know why."

The junior is silent a moment, but then he blurts: "I lost my mom, too."

Derek nods. "I know. You were with her."

Instead of asking why he knows that, Stiles just lowers his cancer stick as well. His eyes are a little wide. "_That's_ what Isaac meant."

Derek doesn't meet his eyes, but he's got a pretty good idea what the curly haired lacrosse player said to Stiles. "Yeah, I know."

"About everything?"

Derek nods. "Everything," he repeats.

Stiles reaches up to pull in another lung-blackening drag. "Oh."

"I do—or at least could—like you," Derek says softly, reaching his own cig back up. "But I can't."

Stiles nods, pulling in another and holding his breath.

Derek reaches up and snatches it away before dropping it and stomping on it. "I'm just going to hurt you more." He does the same with his own. "A lot, and I won't even do it on purpose. I block people out naturally, and I'm sorry for that."

Stiles stares up at him, eyes a mix between sad and defiant. "You really think that matters to me? I've had a crush on you since my freshman year—_not_ Lydia, if that's what she told you. She was just a cover-up after that. I don't care if you and I go to utter hell, I just want a _chance_, you know? You don't even have to meet my dad, you can just…" He flits a writst. "Kiss me sometimes, and tell me your favorite color. I don't care."

Derek sighs a little, wishing he had kept those cigarettes now. "My favorite color is red."

Stiles grins despite the situation. "So is mine."

They just stand there a few moments longer, until Stiles breaks it: "Do you remember any of it? The sex, I mean."

Derek nods. "Parts of it, and more are slowly coming back. It's why your name was so familiar."

The junior nods in turn. "Do you remember if I was—"

"You were good," Derek says—almost blurts—at him. "Really good for your first time."

Stiles shakes his head and holds up two fingers. "Second time. Danny helped me out. He cuddles a lot more than you do, too."

Derek snorts a little. "I probably passed out before I had the chance to even try it."

Stiles frowns. "You've never cuddled with someone before?"

Derek shakes his head, refusing to make any eye contact. "Not with anyone besides family members, and that was a long time ago."

Stiles snorts. "You're missin' out, man."

Derek nods, shoving his hands into his pockets.

They lapse into another silence after that, but it's again broken by Stiles: "Can I, uh, tell you something?"

Derek nods again.

"I think you do want to talk sometimes, but you're never able to, so you've convinced yourself that you don't even like it. I can listen, you know. I like to listen to you. You've got this…this voice, you know? It makes me actually _want_ to listen to you, and there are a grand total of zero other people who I actually _like_ listening to."

Derek blinks down at him, accidentally making eye contact—and accidentally holding it.

"Don't you ever _want_ to talk about anything?" he continues. "Not just a simple 'hi how are you' or a 'yeah here let me fix this car for you', but an _actual conversation_. Something where you can talk about your favorite movie or your least favorite species of fish or what classes you're taking. Because I know you don't ever do that, because you family talks a lot and they know all of those things anyway and there's literally nobody else in the entire school that you hardly even _look_ at. Don't you ever feel lonely?"

Derek's eyes widen, and he's pretty sure that part of his heart breaks. Lonely. He's lonely. "Shit," he breathes.

Stiles raises an eyebrow. "Um…did I say something wrong?"

"No," he says, shaking his head. "You…dammit." He pretty much shoves passed the junior to get back into the house, eyes open wide to look for Cora. They have to go. Now. Derek can't be here anymore. He can't be anywhere near someone who can have a real conversation with him and pinpoint exactly how he didn't even know he felt because then he's going to grow another attachment and _fuck no_ is that going to happen because if it does then he could lose them to something or another and—

A hand latches onto one of his, and Derek is suddenly being shoved and spun all at once. The moment that his back slams into the nearest wall, Stiles pushes up on his tiptoes and kisses him hard, and his hands fist into the front of Derek's shirt.

Derek's hands instantly move to Stiles' shoulders to push him away, but he doesn't get very far, because he never realized how broad Stiles' shoulders actually are. His hands end up down at his waist, pulling him closer. His eyes closed back at the shoulders, and Stiles smells like cinnamon and peaches and somehow it's the best combination in the entire world.

"Oh my god, get a room!"

Derek yanks his head back against the wall even though Stiles tries to just keep kissing him, and he gives a wide-eyed look to how Erica has her arm draped around Cora's shoulders while Isaac and Boyd are making out while standing right behind them. Obviously Cora took her idea of Isaac's hotness into her own hands.

"Oh, don't say that," Erica says, squeezes Cora closer. "I think they're cute."

Derek is _not_ having this conversation with them—or anyone else. He slips two fingers into one of Stiles' belt loops on his jeans and tugs the junior after him, towards the stairs where he knows all of the bedrooms are. He knows that Jackson's parents are trying to sleep with all of this noise is going on and Jackson probably has Lydia in his own bedroom, but the fact that there are three guest bedrooms makes that information mostly pointless. Stiles drops onto his back, pulling Derek over him as they crawl backwards on the bed. They don't even get the door shut, so Stiles reaches backwards to grab one of the pillows and at least close it _most_ of the way.

When shoes have been kicked to the floor and Derek gets both of their shirts off, Stiles raises up a hand to rest against Derek's chest, keeping him from leaning back down to kiss him some more. "We're not doing this unless you're staying," the junior says, voice stern. His eyes are open, though—vulnerable and full of hope.

Derek kneels above him, swallowing tightly. "I'm lonely," he whispers, "but…"

Stiles' eyes look like they break just the tiniest bit, but then they're sparkling again, and he pushes up on his elbows to press a kiss to the tip of Derek's nose. "One step at a time, right?"

Derek pulls away at the kiss, dropping backwards until he's sitting in front of Stiles instead of kneeling above him. "Did you just…" He reaches a hand up and touches the tip of his nose. A scene from their first time washes through Derek's mind: Stiles kissed his nose just before he fell asleep, and Derek had been holding onto one of his wrists. "You're the only person that's ever kissed my nose before."

Stiles gives a smug little look as he shrugs. "I like your nose. You play with it sometimes."

Derek presses his lips together for a moment. "What else have you noticed about me?" he asks at length.

Stiles rolls to kneel in front of him, now. "You get angry sometimes, and whenever Cora is around you and you are she just rubs right…" He reaches a hand up to cup around his ear, letting his fingers dance over the skin behind it. "Here."

Derek swallows tightly, trying really hard not to press into Stiles' hand. Cora has told him multiple times that behind his ears is "his spot", wherein she calms him down from all sorts of emotions—even excitement, because it's a calming spot. He's like a dog… "What else?"

"Ooh, it _is_ your spot." Stiles grins, reaching his other hand up to the other ear.

Derek grits his teeth, but it's only to keep from dropping his head onto Stiles' shoulder. Fuck.

"You read a lot," Stiles says softly, fingers staying where they are. "Non-fiction things. Not even stories, but pages in your textbooks and encyclopedias and I'm pretty sure I caught you reading a dictionary once."

Derek nods, reaching his hands out to slip into the two belt loops on the sides of Stiles' jeans. "I needed to look up a word for my essay and I forgot to stop reading."

Stiles laughs, moving forward. He ends up straddling Derek's lap, hands dropping from his ears so that his arms can wrap around Derek's neck, one of his hands playing into the back of Derek's hair. "I like you, okay? You said you like me, too—or, at the very least, you could. I know it's not as much as I like you, but that's okay with me. I've kept myself mostly in your shadow so you wouldn't see me watching you, you know. I just…" He leans closer, nudging his nose very lightly against Derek's cheek. "I want to be the one that knows you better than anybody else. I want to be the one that listens to you instead of my own voice." He presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Please?"

Derek hesitates for only a second before kissing Stiles back hard, his arms wrapping around his waist. Stiles breathes a laugh into his mouth before starting to lean backwards, and Derek gets the hint. They shift around before they're back into their earlier position, Derek kneeling over Stiles. Now the junior has his legs wrapped around Derek's waist, though, and—

Someone knocks loudly on the door, shoving it open. "Cops are here!" someone yells.

Stiles gasps, shoving Derek away from him. "My dad!" he squeaks. "My dad is here. Shit, where's my shirt?"

Derek is not about to have a talk with a cop about sleeping with his son while they're at a party. They still smell a little bit like smoke, and Derek had two cans of beer (which didn't effect him at all, considering what he's used to) before Stiles sat beside him on the couch, so this will probably be even worse than just that.

They practically dive off of the bed, Derek throwing Stiles his t-shirt as he picks up his own. When Derek looks up from his clothing, Cora is running into the room.

"We weren't here," she hisses, throwing open the window.

"My Jeep is here," Stiles says, panicking a little.

"Nope," Scott says, running in as well. Allison, Heather, a dark skinned girl that Derek doesn't know, and the three-way that is Isaac, Erica, and Boyd all run into the room, Erica slamming the door shut. "We parked down the block, remember?"

Stiles lets out a breath of relief as Derek is swinging himself out of the window as well. He's glad that this guest window leads to the _back_ of the house.

"Hey, you," Stiles says, swinging out after him. "You're not going home yet."

Derek frowns at him as Cora jumps off of the roof. "What do you mean?"

"Stiles has a huge crush on you," Scott says with a grin, diving out before dropping down as well.

"So do the math," Allison says with an eye roll, literally flipping off before landing perfectly on her feet.

"Dumbass," Erica says with a giggle as she and her boys are crawling out as well.

"This roof won't hold us all," Boyd says, pushing Isaac.

He yelps a little, and it looks like he's going to land and break himself, but he ends up rolling across the ground before flipping up onto his feet as well. He glares up at Boyd as the big junior laughs and jumps down after him, and then he pouts out his bottom lip to Erica, who instantly reprimands Boyd for being mean. Derek realizes he hasn't even heard Isaac's voice at all yet.

"Are you inviting me over?" he asks Stiles.

"_Demanding_ you over," Stiles says, poking his chest. "I've got to take Scott home, but there's room in the back. My dad won't check on me if he doesn't see my Jeep here, which he hasn't."

Derek frowns. "Cora can't drive herself home, though."

"Erica will take me," Cora says, motioning for them to jump down already. "She's staying over tonight."

Stiles grins at that, jumping down while still looking at Derek. He stumbles a little when he lands, but Scott catches him, so Stiles instead grins at his best friend and kisses his cheek—to which Scott wrinkles his nose up at. Allison just laughs and kisses his other cheek, though, so he grins.

Derek is about to say something about how Peter might not be okay with a stranger in the house (though doubtful; he doesn't care about things like that at all), but instead the bedroom door opens, and he sees Jackson and Lydia stumble into the room (they _look_ like they just had sex) with Danny right after them, all three of them giggling like fourth grade girls, and Danny slams the door after them.

"It's a good thing I didn't invite my boyfriend over," Danny calls to the others on the ground as he climbs out of the window and swings down. "It's getting hectic in there."

"You better hurry," Jackson says to Derek as Lydia is crawling out of the window. He must be drunk or he wouldn't be even a little bit this nice to Derek. "One of the cops is staring to come up the stairs to make sure that everybody is out of here." He kisses Lydia's hand as she reaches out to take the stiletto's that he's holding for her, and she smiles before turning around, taking a deep breath, and jumping down with the others.

"Jump, big brother!" Cora says to Derek now that he's the last one again, wrapping her arms around Isaac this time. He gives her an odd look, but at the look Erica gives him he smiles. There is no _way_ that that's going to turn into a four-way… Good god, his _little sister_.

Stiles smiles. "Come on," he says, holding his arms out. "I'll catch you."

Derek knows very well that Stiles is kidding, so he crouches down so he can jump off and show up Allison's flip. Just as he's doing it, the bedroom door gets banged on before swinging open, and as he's spinning he catches a glimpse of Jackson turning around towards the door and a very important looking cop coming into the bedroom.

Everyone giggles as they sprint away, diving over bushes and scrambling towards the door in Jackson's fence. The cop sees them, though, screaming no other name but Stiles'.

But the junior just laughs, and Derek manages a smile, because this feeling… All of these feelings, they're something he hasn't felt in a long, long time. He loved someone, once, when he was fifteen, but he lost her, too.

This, though… All of this. All of these people as they're laughing like lunatics while they run away from a cop yelling Stiles' name. Stiles, Scott, Jackson (though still in his house), Isaac, and Danny the lacrosse players, Allison, Lydia, Erica, and Boyd the girlfriends/boyfriend. All of the people that Derek knows rather well but was never really friends with because he never let it get that far. All of these people who have gotten to know each other better than their own families. And now Derek and Cora, shoved into it because of a crush.

Maybe it's not so bad, having friends. Maybe none of them will ever be lost and they can be together for the rest of their lives, remembering the night that Derek held out his arm to hold Stiles' hand as they ran, not even caring that the cop—Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles' _dad_—could see it from where he stood at the window. He'll remember that he wasn't even drunk, and the way that Allison glared at him the tiniest bit when he flipped cooler than she did, and how Cora is definitely becoming the fourth member of the creepiest three-way that Derek has ever seen, and even the full moon shining down at them so they can see where it is that they're running to.

Maybe, if Derek had just listened to the voices echoing around him, he could have gotten here a long time ago. To these people that like him even though they barely even know each other—the people that give him advice about his life when he doesn't even know what _their_ favorite colors are.

He smiles as Stiles pushes him up against his Jeep before kissing him hard. "You're totally going to have to meet my dad," Stiles breathes against his mouth, "because he'll totally be able to tell who you are from the back now."

Derek finds himself smiling back, because he does not even care. He just wants to stop being so lonely and move on, and maybe the very best way to do that is to be the one that's doing the talking, and with Stiles around… Well, he'll always have someone listen.

_**-The End-**_


End file.
